I turned from the circle and left the grand ballroom, holding my back straight as I crossed the thick red carpet of the lobby corridor.

The coat check counter stood near the quiet rear elevators, lit by a single brass lamp fixed to the oak wall.

The young attendant reached for my plastic coat tag, but before he could bring out my dark trench coat, a manicured hand with red nails slid across the polished glass.

Chloe came up beside me, smoothing her beige designer skirt with slow, repeated strokes.

“It must be so tiring, Serena, acting like you belong in rooms like this,” Chloe said, her voice soft and far too polite.